Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Fuck. I have to risk it.
Stepping out of the alley, I turn to the right, taking me toward the gas station, and as I slip inside the automatic doors, I pull down on the hood, making sure my face is properly covered before slinking deeper into the aisles.
“Need help finding something?” a skeptical voice cuts through the silence.
Shit. I can only imagine what the attendant thought the moment I came striding in here, black hoodie covering my face. He probably thinks I’m about to steal everything in sight, but if I don’t respond, I’ll look even more suspicious.
“First aid,” I call back, scooping up a few bottles of water as I pass.
“Next aisle over. To your right.”
I nod and loop around to the next aisle before finding exactly what I need. Bandages. Wraps. Alcohol wipes. Tweezers. Thank God.
I start piling them into my arms, only not knowing how much I need, I just keep grabbing them, filling my arms until I have no choice but to lift the hem of the oversized hoodie and use it as a basket. Everything gets dropped in, including the water, and I struggle to hold on to it all.
Getting everything I need, I head to the counter when I pass by the cold section and find some reduced pre-packaged sandwiches. I’m sure they’re probably a day or two old, but I grab everything that’s on the shelf. When Stone wakes, he’s going to need to eat, and whatever scraps I can put together from the back of the Charger isn’t going to cut it.
Finally reaching the counter, I dump out the contents of my makeshift hoodie basket and watch as the attendant raises his brows. “That everything?” he asks, trying to get a good look at my face, but I turn away, glancing back at the aisle and pausing.
“Ummm, no,” I say, turning on my heel and realizing that I might not get a better chance than this. As the dude starts scanning the items, I hurry through the aisles, collecting all the basics: soap, both men’s and women’s deodorant, tampons, and of course, toothpaste and brushes. We’re out of luck on mouthwash, but that’s a necessity I’ll have to live without.
I grab baby wipes for those times where we might find ourselves without running water, and even manage to score a three-pack of women’s black underwear. I mean, shit. What are my chances? I’m not so lucky in the men’s section, but Stone’s comfortable going commando. As for me, I enjoy properly packaged goods, you know, not only being emotionally supported, but physically supported as well.
Dumping everything onto the counter, I awkwardly wait as everything is put into plastic shopping bags. “So, uhh . . . You a runaway or something?” the guy asks, his gaze narrowed.
“Something like that,” I say, glancing away.
He nods. “Your boyfriend hit you?” he asks, clearly noticing the blood dried on my face.
“No.”
He nods again, probably not believing me, but that’s fine. I’d rather he assumed that than discover the truth. “There’s a women’s shelter on Sixth Street. It’s not amazing, but it’ll get you through the night.”
I keep my head so low that I’m practically staring at my feet. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he says, pointing toward the register. “A hundred and thirty-eight, fifty.”
He narrows his gaze, almost as though expecting me not to have a cent on me, but I quickly pull out the cash and hand it over, eager to get back to Stone, and the minute he’s finished doing his thing, he shoves the bags toward me, and I hastily collect them in my arms.
With everything we could need to get us through the next few weeks, I scurry out of the gas station and hightail it back to Stone, looping around the opposite side of the block to avoid passing the nightclub again. I can’t risk running into those girls. If they’ve noticed the purse missing, then I’ll be at the top of their suspect list, and I’m already at the top of too many of those to risk another.
It’s a longer walk, and it almost wipes me out, but I keep my pace up, determined to get back to Stone and check on him. I can deal with the fallout of my injuries later, but for now, I need to focus on him, the same way he would do for me.
Reaching the Charger, I sigh with relief, finding him exactly where I left him, and I quickly unlock it before opening the back passenger door and shoving everything in. My gaze settles on Stone’s face, but I can’t waste these precious seconds and dive back into the driver’s seat before checking his pulse again.
“Shit.”
He’s not looking good. His skin is clammy, and his pulse is barely there. I was hoping I could take him somewhere to do this, but it’s now or never.